RP Log: Relocation, relocation, relocation
IC Rumors Message: 8/2 Posted Author Bothan town destroyed Mon Feb 01 From the streets... A community near Holm'starn, Bothawui has been wiped off the face of the planet. The four thousand residents are believed to have been arrested and relocated to planet-side detention camps after elements of the 203rd Stormtrooper Legion placed the township under martial law a week ago. Accounts speak of dawn raids against suspected smuggling rings for days prior to the mass detentions. Seized contraband is believed to have been destroyed in the properties in which it was discovered and that the settlement was ultimately levelled by sustained air-strikes. The idyllic town near Holm'starn, in a quiet valley on Bothawui, had become a shadow of its former self. Where Bothan children once roamed the streets, and inhabitants went about their daily lives, now the streets were patrolled by Stormtroopers of the 203rd Legion - keeping close watch over their charges in the town. Dawn-hour raids had been ongoing for days, as the town had become one of several central points of focus in the smuggling investigations from the Imperial Security Bureau, and even in the past twenty-four hours, the presence of stormtroopers in the town was markedly increased. This particular morning had brought a thick fog, rolling in from the hills outside of town, and had created an even more oppressive atmosphere. However, no indication had been given that, for this particular community, today would bring destruction on the grandest of scales. Seeing the depth and breadth of the corruption and smuggling, an order had already been given - from the highest authorities - that airstrikes would begin within the hour, the goal being the utter and complete destruction of the town, and the forcible removal of its inhabitants to resettlement facilities elsewhere on the planet. To that end, scores of prisoner transports were on their way - and not far behind them, the TIE Bombers which would execute the deadly orders. On the ground, Bureau agent Alysha Mara stood at a command post on the outskirts of town, looking over a series of maps with a Stormtrooper commander. Her normal duty uniform, with its bright-white tunic and grey trousers - was eschewed for more utilitarian attire, with a simple identicard hanging from her waist to identify her stature and position. She watches as the Stormtroopers begin to fall out, in preparation for the final set of orders to be given. She was less concerned with the destructive force already on its way, and more concerned with getting as many of the Bothans onto prisoner transports as possible, with as little trouble as possible. A tall order, certainly, but one she had prepared for. Major Calyx Drogyn, commanding officer of the 3rd Battalion, Second Regiment stands across from the agent looking down at the holo-tank in the command center in an Imperial Juggernaut Heavy Assault Vehicle. His helmet rests on a desk nearby as his dark eyes peer down at the blue projection of the city in the tank. Small red symbols indicating the troopers of his battalion stationed throughout the city break up the fields of blue. Bright red dots representing the TIE fighters are shown making slow orbits around the city. The Major speaks up, "Third Battalion, this is Twenty Three Actual, fall back to your battle posts and prepare to contain the city, nothing living makes it through your position." He looks towards the agent, waiting to see what she does next. The Agent turns to the Stormtrooper CO, a stern look on her face. "Dirty business, this is. I know you have your orders, Major, but I do as well - I'd appreciate as many of these... things... as possible left alive and unharmed." She points to several areas on the map table with her gloved left hand. "Prisoner transports will land in three waves, on the west end of the city - shortly after the landing of the third wave, the Fleet will start the airstrikes - but I'm sure your men will have their fun in the meantime. I'm sure you know how best to herd them where they need to go, and I will endeavour to stay out of your way." She pauses for a moment, her hand moving to the IR-5 at her hip, subconsciously ensuring its presence. "A detachment from the Bureau will be overseeing the loading of the cargo, and going with them to their destinations. I will be available to... liaise... as necessary. Or to assist where needed." Fos'kal hangs in the shelter of her familial abode, watching a TIE fighter make its lazy pass overhead. Her nostrils twitch, tufted ears lain flat with annoyance. And worry. "What news from the town?" she calls in to her mate, who'd just returned from a small errand in the city center. "It looks like they're waiting for something." "AmAaa!" Their youngster whines and comes trotting in from his bedroom. "Ish'ya is not sharing...." Cror would frown, sitting in the speeder as it idled near the Imperial forces at the scene of the coming purge. An officer carrying a pack with a heavy-duty commlink was riding along with him, ready to relay the order that would result in the towns end. Almost as if in idle conversation, Captain Cror would ask the driver, "How do you think Ensign Etran will handle this? A simple test of skill, neh?" Major Drogyn slips his hands to the small of his back, "Very well Agent." He reaches down and presses a button on the tank, " VK-2335, Move your platoon forward, report in if you encounter any resistance." He motions towards the agent, "If the Bothans are going to resist, it will be there." He makes a stabbing motion towards a sector near the cities industrial zone, "Hardened structures that are difficult for our scanners to penetrate." With the order given, and the troopers beginning to move into the town, Alysha steps out of the command post and begins making her way into the town. Four thousand Bothans were about to have their lives turned upside down by probably twice as many Stormtroopers, and a small contingent of Agents. She could feel the electricity in the air, as the sight of stormtroopers entering the town begins to incite fear in the eyes of the populace. A secure cordon had already been established, with standing orders to eliminate anyone trying to flee - and the dirty work was about to begin. A series of loudspeakers, installed shortly after the beginning of the occupation, begins broadcasting a message in both Basic and Both - previously recorded in Alysha's voice, and then automatically translated. "RESIDENTS. ON ORDERS OF THE IMPERIAL GOVERNOR, EACH FAMILY UNIT IS ORDERED TO ASSEMBLE OUTSIDE YOUR HOMES OR BUSINESSES. BRING ONLY WHAT YOU CAN CARRY. VIOLATIONS, ATTEMPTS TO RESIST, OR ATTEMPTS TO DELAY WILL BE HANDLED WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES." Alysha cringes a bit, never liking the sound of her own voice - but as the Bothans began to move, she had to be pleased with the quick response, as she saw some Bothan families already awaiting instructions. She fingers a lighter in her pocket, waiting for chaos to take over, as it always does. Cror would nod at the Colonels words, turning to the man with the communicator, "Technician, inform the TIE's to keep an eye on the industrial center. If there's significant resistance, provide supporting fire for the 203rd. When they've escaped, level the industrial center." He'd look back up to Drogyn, "Is that satisfactory Major?" "...." Fos'kal's mate clicks his teeth together as the announcement booms overhead. Pointing a shaggy finger into the air, he growls. "That. Is what I was trying to get ahead of. The bags in the cellar - grab them. Take the children and do as it says, for now. I'll be back." Before she can protest, he nuzzles her ear and zips past his bewildered offspring out the back. Cutting through alleys and old haunts, he makes his way to 'the' warehouse, to await the others. Hopefully, it isn't too late to put their plan into action. Fos'kal frowns, watching her mate embark on what's no doubt a fool's errand, this late in the game. Barking out, she calls for her other child to gather, while hunting for their pre-packed bags. The Major nods in response to the Captain's orders, "Yes, sir." He picks his helmet up, "We are going to the front line." He slips his bucket on, "VK-23 Actual, comms check." His voice comes across toneless and almost inhuman." HE picks a blaster carbine up as well, holstering it on his hip, "Shall we move forward Captain?" He motions towards a pair of troopers at the entrance to the command center, "My personal guard will ensure your safety." With that the small element of troopers begin to move out. Alysha begins walking through the city, seeing a few pairs of stormtroopers here and there - she is well ahead of the 'front line' of troopers, though she can hear the roar of repulsorlift engines in multiple directions, as the massive Imperial war wagons begin making their way into the city. For now, she - and the troopers - remain calm, giving no indication of the cleansing fire that would soon rip through the town. She speaks to one family which had quickly assembled - and, after a pair of Stormtroopers clears the premises for contraband, instructs them to move West. On the city's extreme Western periphery, a trio of transports lands, with black-clad Bureau agents pouring out of each, perhaps three dozen in total. As Bothans who have been cleared begin arriving - calmly, for the time being - they are each forcibly tagged with a microchip in their ear, containing an identity number, and ushered into the transports. Alysha, with two troops at her side, begins moving to the next home in line - this one belonging to Fos'kal. "Identicards, NOW." she demands. Some blocks away, on the fringe of the industrial zone, trouble's brewing. A handful of resisting, resentful locals that haven't been outed yet are gathered underground, staring at a hastily rigged surveillance screen. A variety of switches are mounted nearby, each marked with a number. "Where's Drashkal?" a grizzled, greying specimen grumps, getting up to pace impatiently around the makeshift bunker. "Does it matter?" challenges a younger version, pointing to the screen. "We need to activate the mines. Now, before it's too late to get out of here!" There are a couple bags belonging to hopefuls, sitting in the corner. The elder Bothan's belongings are not among them. A block and a half away now, Drashkal is slowing his approach. Ears and eyes alert, he scans the streets nervously from the shadows. He's not going to make it in time to watch the fireworks from the safe side of things. Closing his eyes, torn, he struggles with a decision. Meanwhile, Fos'kal is hugging her offspring to her with one protective arm while glowering hatefully at the troops upon her doorstep. She grunts something to the older child, who is nearest their bag. The kid reaches for it to retrieve "The cards are in our bag," she explains, softly. Cror would nod tapping the driver on the shoulder, the speeder would move to fall in behind Drogyn's men. Much to the nervous chagrin of the comms Technician. "I suppose this is to be an interesting day. Eh Technician Lor?" The Captain would give the man a bit of a reassuring smile. Major Drogyn motions towards his element, listening in on comm traffic, "It looks like our agent has found some trouble, we are en route, VK-2335 you are authorized to use deadly force for anyone who does not comply." He begins to walk a bit faster, the retinue of troopers following him. Seeing the young Bothan reaching into a bag, one of the troopers flanking Alysha leaps forward on instinct, sensing a possible weapon - and rips the bag from his arms, knocking him down in the process. The trooper upends the bag, dumping the contents onto the ground, and eventually the identicards flip onto the ground. With a grunt, the trooper tosses the bag at the prone Bothan, and hands the cards to the Agent. She looks at the cards, handing them - almost politely - back to the Bothan woman. "Clean your mess up, and then move to the west end of the town. You have thirty seconds." A sadistic smile comes across Aly's face, her pearly-white teeth and emerald green eyes shining, almost absurd given the gravity of the situation. "Your co-operation is appreciated, and the New Order thanks you for your patience during this trying time!" - She motions to the home, sending one of the two Stormtroopers inside, which is quickly followed by crashes and bangs, telltale signs of a thorough ransacking. Fos'kal cries out as her kid's knocked asunder, but knows better than to do something stupid. Yet. Amber eyes narrow in focus over the emerald ones staring back at her and she stoops to help the frightened child return things to the satchel. "Thanks?" She snorts, thin tufts of creamy fur rippling over her snout. "This is no thanks! This is criminal." The littlest one tugs at her tunic sleeve, drawing her attention off the Imperial witch. "Come on," she huffs and bends to scoop her up while her brother shoulder the smaller bag. The bigger one goes over her own back. It's getting more tense by the minute in that basement, and the elder finally kicks at the table leg. "Okay! Blow it." Order given, /his/ offspring - grown - moves to the panel of switches and begins to trigger their last resort. Explosives, hidden in bits of debris and abandoned vehicles along the marching route - and some other main roads seen as potentials - begin to erupt. With a little luck, they can take out some troopers before being sent to their own afterlife. Cror would, admittedly flinch as the bombs went off. Raising up an arm to shield his face as the shrapnel and fire blew past. Speeder buffeted around like an air-hockey puck in the sudden waves of pressurized air. A hoarse shout from the Captain, "Bloody COWARDS." The concussive blast of an explosive device is a sensation that few who have ever been through it forget. For the Stormtroopers of command element, 3-2 it catches them off guard, several troopers knocked off of their feet. For Major Drogyn, he catches himself before hitting the ground, lowering himself into a crouched position, drawing his blaster, "Ambush!" He barks into his helmet com and begins sweeping the buildings around his position. As his troopers begin to get back on their feet, they begin to find cover, ready to return fire if they are attacked, "VK-23 Actual to all elements, you have permission to go weapons free." All over the city, where troopers were gathering Bothans, orders change and troopers begin to blast them down, opening up on unarmed civilians with repeating blasters. Alysha - a trained Bureau agent - barely blinks at the sound of explosions, and simply turns around to see the cloud of smoke rising several hundred yards away. Her ears are ringing, sure, but that grin stays on her face. The lighter she had been twirling in her pocket is withdrawn and lit, and tossed unceremoniously into a pile of rubbish at the side of the home, as soon as the trooper exits. The 'weapons-free' order comes across her comms, and she mumbles to herself. "Burn it. Burn it all down." She taps her right ear, activating her comms relay. "Fleet, Agent Mara. Call off the third round of transports. There won't be enough of the flea-bags left to fill them, they have sealed their own fate." Half a kilometer to the west, the first three transports - packed to the brim - had already left the area, and the second trio had landed. The Bothans currently in the processing area were safe, of course, and a few stragglers were allowed in, but fewer and fewer of the town's residents were arriving, and many of them were wounded - and to the horror of many of the Bothans already in processing, those wounded by explosions or blaster fire were being executed on sight. This was, perhaps, what her husband was up to. He wasn't coming back. Flinching at the sound and tremor as something vanishes into a flare of fire and debris far up the street, Fos'kal stares, eyes widening as some of her brethren are suddenly gunned down along their march to the directed west. She drops her bag off her bag, knocks the one out of her son's hand and screams "RUN!" The family makes a move to zip around the flames licking at their home, into the garden. Drashkal is there, tongue panting as he fights to catch his breath, firing a round at a helmeted face that peeps from his home's window. "I'm sorry...it was too late. All too late," he laments, dropping to the ground. As he falls, his shifting jacket reveals a crusty hole in his side. Calyx Drogyn pulls a small cylinder from his belt, twisting the bottom before slamming it with his fist, a bright flash of light fires up into the sky where it floats back down to the ground flashing pulses of light, ""VK-23 Actual to Thunder. Request fire mission at beacon six..five..zero.." Within seconds a booming sound is heard back near the starport, the Juggernaut command vehicle unleashes a salvo of concussion missiles that streak through the air impacting near the industrial sector, causing the ground to tremor all over the city as fireballs rise into the sky from their points of impact. Bothan freedom fighters peek out from the windows of wrecked buildings around the command column, firing blasters at the troopers hoping to pin them down, at least scoring a brief victory in what appears to be a rapidly failing war. Cror would scowl, drawing a MX Heavy Blaster Pistol from his side, Not that he was a good shot or anything, but better to have than not, in a situation like this. He'd turn to the comms technician and finding the un-armoured man had caught a lump of shrapnel. He'd scowl. Reaching back to grab the device, "Begin bombardment of all non-secured sections of the town. If there aren't imperial troops there, I want them levelled." And following that order, a number of the fighters above would break off from their circling overhead, releasing strings of bombs, for a moment the weapons would seem beautiful, a string of falling stars, prior to their impact on those areas lacking imperial presence. A sudden roar, as the torpedoes destroyed the simple homes, in an almost comical display of disproportionate retribution. Realizing how exposed her location is, and hearing the change in pitch of the TIEs engines betraying their approach, Alysha begins jogging - almost leisurely - towards the western town edge, and the waiting prisoner transports. She sees the Bothan family out of the corner of her eye, and contemplates executing them herself - but as entertaining as that may have been, she would undoubtedly join them in death when the bombs began falling. She picks up her pace, resorting to pot-shots from her IR-5 as she darts between buildings with an almost inhuman speed. She shoots not to kill or maim, but simply to keep the odd Bothan in cover long enough to allow her to move with relative ease. These were not trained soldiers, of course, they were men and women simply trying to defend their homes - and in another world, or an alternate universe, she might be a comrade in arms. She certainly respected their tenacity, though the decision to resist... resettlement... would be costly. By her mental math, and the time on her watch, only perhaps a quarter of the population had made its way onto the transports - the rest of them would burn. Fos'kal stumbles to her knees alongside her mate, anguish wrinkled deeply into her furred features. She hunkers down there, next to the blooming patch of vegetables the children had so proudly grown as a pet project. They gather the wee ones between them, anchoring themselves as one. Hushed whispers pass among them now, words of hope traded in for words of consolation, lullabies as the fighters rain death upon their home. Upon them. When that wave is over, two plants remain standing against the odds, leaves a bit scorched, but at least one of the dangling gourds remains attached. A promise that from the ashes, new life will prevail. Even if the hands who planted the seed are gone. The captain would be busy trying to patch up the communications technician who was steady bleeding into the seat. Of course he wasn't exactly a medic but how complicated can it be? Still even he would look up as the first of the bombs struck along the outskirts, Still, he'd spend little time marvelling over the experience of seeing something from close up that he'd seen from afar many times. Major Drogyn orders his men to fall back, "VK-23 Actual, all elements fall back to extraction point alpha." With that he pulls another grenade and flings it into the nearest building, this one making a popping sound before it begins to emit a colorless gas. Bothans begin falling down as they inhale the gas. "Gas these buildings, then fall back!" Major Drogyn orders his troops as they begin flinging gas grenades into the nearby buildings. Moments pass and the fire they are drawing starts to slowly die off. As the troopers begin to fall back, Calyx holsters his blaster once more, "VK 23 Actual to Thunderer, fire for effect on the beacon, cluster rockets" With that the Juggernaut fires another volley of missiles, these split apart in the area, filling the area with smaller explosive projectiles, blowing apart the recently gassed buildings and anything else nearby. It's very quiet now, inside the poorly-rigged 'command' center in the factory basement. The four Bothans stare at the screen as it crackles and sputters. The feed dies, to the tune of muffled roars and screaming pelting above ground. The building trembles - they can feel it succumbing to the assault. It won't be long, now. "We did what we could," the elder nods, eyes sad that he won't be able to see any fruit - what little there is - of their labor. "If you wish to go now, try to make it to the next city. Send a transmission, if you can. Someone out there must be listening. If we are lucky, the Republic will know, one way or another, what atrocities have befallen our people." Silence reigns for another long moment, then two of the four take up their bags and bow their heads farewell before taking their chances on slipping out amid the bombardment. The other two - elder and son - await their fate peacefully in one another's company. Minutes later, something potent wafts into the room, from the empty turbolift shaft. "I will see you soon, my son," The elder nods somberly and clasps the other's arm as the poison encroaches upon their air. The screaming sound of TIE engines and booming explosions fills the air as Alysha reaches the final prisoner transport, moments before it begins exiting the area. As she stands on the ramp, the transport's engines begin spooling up, sending dust into the air - making the area nearby seem like a blurry, hazy hellscape. She could see a few figures moving in the distance, horrifying images of wounded Bothans in their death throes, and the last Stormtroopers exiting the area - but otherwise, smoke and fire was all that was visible. As the transport lifts off, she grabs onto one of the ramp's hydraulic rams, hoping for a bird's-eye view of the destruction. All around the city - which perhaps thirty minutes before was full of thousands of Bothans going about their lives, 'innocent' men, women, and children along with the guilty smugglers and saboteurs - fires rage, the inferno raising the temperature all around the valley, and the heat beats on Alysha's face, even from a hundred meters above. The innocent had died with the guilty, and TIEs continue to scream past, their lasers and torpedoes glassing the entire valley, leaving no living beings in their wake.